


Decent Into Darkness

by Gameguy1992



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gameguy1992/pseuds/Gameguy1992
Summary: A doctor is a man of science and logic, a man who seeks to help and cure those ill. But what happens when such a man is thrust into a world that follows not logic or science? What happens to such a man when he is confronted with darkness and insanity at nearly every turn? Can he truly survive such a place? or will he crumble and perish like so many others?
Kudos: 1





	Decent Into Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure why possessed me to start this story. Maybe ill continue it, maybe i wont.  
> we'll see

There was no polite way to say it, the town was a shit hole; if one could call this collection of dilapidated buildings and houses a town. He'd heard of this place only a few days ago, while in a pub in a nearby village he'd overhead the men talking about this place. Cursed they called it. A place where nightmares manifest and hope goes to die. Lands plagued by monsters and abominations and all manner of dangerous creatures. Just the sort of place a man of science might be able to do some good. As a doctor he scoffed at the idea of curses and monsters. There was nothing that science could not explain, given enough time, research and experimentation. Looking out over the Hamlet though, he had to admit he could see why the men had thought it cursed. Nearly every building looked as if it was about to collapse or cave in on itself. A few buildings seemed to be slightly better off, the tavern, the blacksmith, the abbey and the sanitarium; they at least seemed to be in a state that resembled functionality. 

Continuing along the road he soon found himself nearing the edge of the town. On his left as he approached a lone wagon sat, or more precisely appeared to have collapsed. From an ancient and rusted iron hook hung a small dimly lit lantern which barely illuminated the face of the gnarled, balding and ancient looking man who sat at the window watching him approach. Hastening his pace he approached the wagon and the man, bowing his head as was customary for men of his profession. "Greetings sir. How find you on this day?" 

The old man looked at him, his polite smile revealing several missing or gold teeth as he nodded. "Well enough doctor, though the day is only mid. So that may change perhaps."

He nodded in response, coming to a stop a respectable six feet away from the man and his wagon. "True enough I suppose."

Opening his mouth to continue the elderly man cut him off, his pale and slightly foggy eyes drifting to the winding road he'd followed to get here. "Pardon the impunity, but upon your travels here, did you perhaps run across a jester or a antiquarian on the nearby roads?"

He shook his head. "In truth sir, no I did not. The road was most untraveled. Have these persons gone missing?"

The old man sighed and for a moment seemed to move slightly, perhaps making notes on an unseen sheet of parchment? "Indeed. Returned from the ruins only yesterday they did. The jester cackling like a madman and the antiquarian shaking like a leaf. The Lord sent them to the tavern, to drink and whore their torments away. Alas I suspect they have abandoned us and fled these horrid lands. Perhaps that makes us the mad ones for staying."

Taking aback by those words he took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "Be these the lands of Lord Brayon?"

The man nodded. "Indeed. Come to test your skills and metal here like so many others?"

Again he nodded, bowing slightly as he did. "Yes. Though I doubt half of what was said about this place is truthful."

The old man chuckled, a wheezing huffing chuckle that sounded like the wind whistling past a crack in a wall. "Think again, good doctor. The tales of this place are true and then some. Darkness and ruin walk these lands. Stay here long enough, and they'll ensnare you just as they have countless others. Leave now and perhaps you might be spared."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "With all due respect my fellow, I cannot leave. Not when such hysteria and misinformation plague these lands. Not when my science might peel back this darkness and illuminate its secrets."

The old man chuckled again. "Then give me a name good doctor, so I might let my Lord know that our next great savior has arrived."

He drew himself up, bowing his masked head courteously. "Arthur good sir."

The old man smiled and nodded towards the village. "Welcome then doctor Arthur. I hope these lands treat you better than they do the others."

\---------*---------

The door to the tavern was worn and old, yet it still swung open with ease when he touched it. Inside a dozen or so men and women sat hunched over tables drinking or gambling. Behind the bar a tired and slightly portly looking man handed a flagon of drink off to a man who looked as if he might be some kind of highwayman. Those inside the bar turned to look at him, their tired sunken eyes silently looking him up and down before turning back to what they'd been doing. Stepping inside he secured the door before beginning to move through the room, heading towards the barman who nodded to him as he approached. "Whisky, beer or mead, what's your poison doctor?"

He shrugged. "A mead good sir. But only a half mug." 

The barman raised an eyebrow at him for a moment before shrugging and turning away from him to prepare the requested drink. Taking the chance to look around the bar, he noted that a staircase led to an upper level, no doubt where whoring went on or else a patron of the bar might sleep off their hangover if they overindulged themselves the night before. To his right the highwayman from before had turned away and was now nursing his drink alone, slowly swirling the glass of what looked to be beer before pressing the glass to his lips. To his left a crusader of some kind, recognizable only by the blue tunic he wore emblazoned with the holy symbol of the sun sat conversing with a man dressed in what seemed to be a fur pelt of some kind and a set of chains that encircled his body. Frowning slightly he looked this man over, noting his sunken back eyes and patchy thin black hair. The man's skin was surprisingly pale considering how much of it was exposed and under the collection of chains he could see dozens of scars crisscrossing and covering the man's body.

"You're drink doctor."

Turning to take the drink Arthur paused, finding that the barman had filled the glass completely, rather than half as he had requested. "Sir? Y-"

The barman cut him off. "No half drinks here doctor. Full or nothing."

He bit his lip, deciding against arguing with the man. Taking his drink Arthur steeled himself, resolving to only drink half the dark brown liquid in the flagon. "How much do I owe you sir?" 

To his surprise the barman shook his head. "Nothing. The Lord here pays for all drinks, also all whores. Though if you gamble, you use your own coin."

He blinked in surprise, the expression going unseen behind his mask. "The Lord pays for all this?"

The barman nodded. "In hopes that the free drinks and whores will entice adventures and glory seekers such as yourself to stay longer."

Frowning behind his mask Arthur shook his head. "He'll be disappointed then. I intend to help fix these lands. Not muck and fuddle about like the others."

The barman chuckled and rolled his eyes. "So too said many others before you doctor. Enjoy your drink and whatever company you can find."

With that the barman turned away, his attention going to the highwayman who had set his glass down and was no doubt waiting for a refill. Turning his back on the bar Arthur noted that the crusader and strange chained man had moved too, and now seemed to be on their way up the stairs to the second level of the tavern. Raising an unseen eyebrow Arthur noted that the pair of men's eyes seemed to be fixed on each other, rather than the small gaggle of girls that were looking out from the second story balcony.

"Pardon me friend, might you be new to these lands as well?"

The sound of an accented and cheerful voice made him turn, finding that a bearded and dark skinned man had approached him and was smiling pleasantly at him. Nodding in response to the question he spoke. "Yes I am."

The man smiled wider. "then fortune smiles upon us today. My companion," the man gestured to a woman dressed in a ragged coat who was leaning back and balancing her chair on two legs while nursing a half empty glass. "And myself are newcomers here as well. Perhaps you'd like to join us for drinks?" 

He nodded, following the man back to the table. "Thank you good sir."

The man continued to smile as he sat down as well. "My name is Emral. And my companion," again he gestured to the woman who nodded and half raised her glass. "Is Anisha."

In response Arthur raised his own glass, "My name is Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you and make your acquaintances."

A moment later they all brought their glasses to their lips and drank.

\-----*-----

He'd stayed up late that night, later than he usually did. Speaking with Emral and Anisha was unusually entertaining. He learned that Emral haled from the lands to the far east and had come here when he'd heard tell of the land and it's plagues from a wandering caravan of traders. In his home Emral was regarded as a mystic, one who could commune with the unseen and the unnatural and even bend them to his will if needed. Emral had brought out a skull then, showing it to Arthur and telling him that the skull had once belonged to his father. At first that bit of information had been startling, so much so that for a moment Arthur found himself wondering if he was sitting next to a patricisite. Emral must have been able to sense his uncertainty for the man had laughed and explained that in his home lands when a male died their head was ritualistically removed and their spirit bound to it so as to serve the next in line of the family. For a time he questioned Emral about the skull, how was it removed from the body? Was there perhaps some special method in which it was cleaned or cared for that allowed it to remain a vessel for the soul after the rest of the body had died? How did the seemingly gibberish incantations Emral spoke awake the spirit and force it to render aid? Alas he received little more than superstitious and cryptic answers. 

Emral's companion Anisha was somehow at the same time just as mysterious and yet equally open and honest. She'd grown up in a large city about a week's ride by horseback. She'd grown up on the streets and been pressed into the ranks of a local gang. There she'd learned to fight, particularly how to throw knives and use poisons to kill. According to her there had been some kind of a falling out between her and the gang's leader and out of respect she'd been allowed to leave the city and never return. At the same time she refused to say what the falling out was, what gang she'd been a member of, or even the name of the city she'd grown up in. Even when he'd tried to ask questions that would give him an indirect answer Anisha would simply shrug and take another drink.

When it came time for him to explain himself Arthur started at the beginning. He told them of his life growing up. How his village had been the epicenter of a horrible illness that ravaged the population. How one day a doctor had arrived and after several days of research had managed to cure the remaining villagers. Since then he'd spent every day working to become a doctor; studying the human body, researching illnesses and plagues, how to heal injuries and sickness. They'd both been rightfully impressed, although Emral had commented that such feats were possible through his mysticism as well. Out of respect for his new found friends he chose not to argue the point, making a mental note instead to ask Emral about such techniques and to perhaps test their limits if Emral seemed amenable to it. 

His resolve to only drink half his flagon of mead failed him. Instead he ordered a refill; then another and another until the tavern felt oddly cheerful and his head felt suitably warm and fuzzy. It felt good to talk to others again. He'd spent several days traveling here and had been alone the entire time. So to have people to talk to, was appreciated. The hours blurred together, as did the stories. They talked about a wide range of subjects. Emral spoke about a ghost that had terrorized a family in his land and how he'd driven it away with the aid of several hexes and his father's spirit. Anisha told them of a burglary she and some of her old gang had performed that had resulted in them making off with a Duke's ransom worth of items and valuables. And he retailed them with stories of his studies, particularly a story that had involved him curing a young woman of her sexually rapacious nature through the use of external stimulation. 

Soon their mugs were empty again, but this time he did not seek to refill his, instead standing up and announcing that he had best retire for the night so he could get some sleep and be ready for the coming day. Emral and Anisha agreed and soon the trio of new friends left the tavern, walking into the chilly night air.


End file.
